I almost bought pepper spray today. I like to trust humans as a general rule, but you just never know what could happen... which is the precise reason I decided to stop going on runs with a creme brulee torch as a weapon. I set out tonight (while it was still light out) and ran to Big Lots (don't you dare judge me) where I whispered (twice) to an employee, enquiring if they had any pepper spray. I didn't want any weirdos to become aware of my lack of ammunition. We found some. It was $10. Seeing as how I've never been a mace purchaser I was not ready for this. So I set off into the pits of the store to find something else I could use as a weapon. Three minutes later I came upon this:
It is what is know in some cultures as a three-foot long, glass vase. And I could totally take some creeper out with it. Also, it was $3. So, I made my purchase, and headed back out to finish my jog. One Lady GaGa song later, I came upon these:
which took my embarrassingly labored breath away and which also may or may not have been growing in a stranger's yard. In my defense, it was a disaster zone. Unkempt to the utmost degree. And in all honesty, and at least 50% probability, these were weeds, because a) there were a million of them and b) when I pulled them out of the ground they were attached to what looked like giant onions. (Please don't comment and say, "Um, they're called bulbs" because, "Um... I don't really even know what that means.") As people with furrowed brows passed by and as I checked the lit windows of the residence I was felonizing for signs of life, I tested out some excuses in case I was caught, such as "You're welcome for weeding your lawn for you" and "Que? No hablo...me no speaking the English. Ole." Things got tricky when I tried to break off the onion-bulbs from the base of the stems. They were not cooperative. So using my God-given resourcefulness I bit them off one by one, again, just waving to passers by as if this is how I weed "my" lawn all the time. I then ran home with the satisfaction one can only get from committing a crime and getting away with it. Me and O.J...we get it.
BUT... every morning when I wake up I think, "Wait, let's snooze a couple of times (8-12)," and then when my snooze goes off for the last time (5 pm-ish) I think to myself, "I want to paint my car like this one. Then I remember how I also sometimes like to pretend I'm a spy and how us spies are slaves to our anonymity and how this may or may not cause problems with being caught. Sigh. Also, I would like this bag please. And what the hoo-ha... let's throw being British in there as well.
Ahoy. Dear people who don't read this blog anymore due to my somewhat *cough* lack of diligence in the past 14 *cough* months...? Apologies. I know you aren't coming back, but that is in fact fine news and here is why. Hmmm...hold please. I must start at the beginning.
My mom told me to start blogging again. Seeing as how I am the perfect child and always do what my mother tells me, I naturally started penciling it into my schedule, but it's a tight fit with the naps and 30 Rock obsession. Still, I go to great lengths for that woman.
Our transcript reads as follows:
Mom: Start blogging again.
Kristen: Because the whole world started blogging and I feel pressure to read everyone's blogs and due to the all or nothing brain you gave me I have to choose nothing.
Mom: Really? That's why?
Kristen: Isn't that a good enough reason?
Mom: ....awkward silence....
Kristen: Also I spent most of the day talking to myself in my head (and occasionally slash accidentally out loud) deciding how best to write about what I was doing instead of just enjoying it.
Mom: You should blog.
So... I'm back. But not for you... sorry. Hold please. Does that sound cocky? Unintentional. I'm just back for me and my thoughts and my momma. Cause I love love la-hooove her ducks.